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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29363553">Use Your Claws</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vigilantejam/pseuds/vigilantejam'>vigilantejam</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>little ones [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Blood, Ficlet, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, wound fingering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:42:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>799</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29363553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vigilantejam/pseuds/vigilantejam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Blanky somehow is not tired enough to sleep, and McDonald knows he needs his rest...</p><p><i>shameless flirting / "you astonish me"</i> for the terror rarepair week!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thomas Blanky/Alexander McDonald</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>little ones [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Terror Rarepair Week 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Use Your Claws</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>why am i like this? we simply do not know.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Any other man would be flat out by now.</p><p>Everyone else has left. Dr McDonald thought the Captain might put in another appearance, but it seems his immediate self-confinement and intent to dry out is serious enough to keep him from the sick bay. Jopson, laden with bottles, had followed the doctor back to his patient and with a wink placed his burden at the bedside and delivered the news to Mr Blanky. </p><p>“You’ll find more joy in this than the ice, sir, and make less of a waste of Lieutenant Little’s effort.”</p><p>Blanky had thrown back his head and delivered a trademark cackle that turned to a groan of pain at the movement. </p><p>“Alright gentlemen, less of the excitement, thank you.” McDonald had said, all sweetness as he ushered Jopson away.</p><p>The only other interruption has been Mr Hartnell showing his face, enjoying a drink at Blanky’s insistence, and retreating only when the bells call him.</p><p>“He’s a good lad,” Blanky says fondly, a softness to his often ferocious eyes.</p><p>He is beginning to settle thank goodness. It’ll take more than a demonic bear to snuff out Thomas Blanky.</p><p>McDonald tells him as much. “You astonish me, Thomas.”</p><p>“I’ve survived worse,” Blanky replies. “Besides, our Tuunbaq only gave me a scratch. It’s you who’s taken my leg, Alex.”</p><p>McDonald catches Blanky’s eyes, sparkling with mischief in the lamplight. He looks down at his arms. However much he has tried to clean up there’s still some of Blanky’s blood on his shirtsleeves and apron. He sets his eyebrows in a plaintive expression and licks his lips.</p><p>“My humblest apologies, how might I make it better?”</p><p>“Don’t you play the innocent with me, all sunshine and dimples. Have yourself a dram.”</p><p>Blanky nods at the bottle and watches McDonald take it between his lips and drink down a gulp of the whiskey.</p><p>“There now,” he laughs as McDonald hisses through his teeth.</p><p>McDonald presses the bottle into Blanky’s hands in his lap and looks down to where his slops are cut and torn away, the tourniquet holding a bloody mess of cloth and poultice in place.</p><p>“I suppose I have been rather beastly,” he says, resting his hand where Blanky’s knee used to be.</p><p>“Use your claws,” Blanky says quietly, and his hand closes over McDonald’s. He takes a pull from the bottle.</p><p>“On this your engagement night,” McDonald answers, his voice dropping to match Blanky’s as he peels away the useless sodden dressings. “Whatever will your betrothed say?”</p><p>McDonald crooks his fingers and digs in where he has sawn away bone and flesh. It’ll undo his clean work, set the healing back a day or two, and leave a messier scar.</p><p>“That’s it,” Blanky says. </p><p>He sighs out and relaxes into the pain as McDonald pushes and twists into the wound, eases off, pushes again. The wet sounds of blood and tissue are matched by Blanky’s moans. His knuckles are turning white around the neck of the whiskey bottle. The swell in his trousers is impossible to ignore.</p><p>“Unlike you to be indirect, Mr Blanky. Or do you not want this at all?” He pulls the slops string loose and hovers with his hand half inside. His fingertips trace down the crease of Blanky’s pelvis.</p><p>“You’re a bloody tease.”</p><p>“I’m a bloody everything right now,” McDonald chuckles, and to make his point takes Blanky’s prick in his slick red hand and strokes.</p><p>Blanky takes a final mouthful of whiskey and throws the bottle down. It hits the wooden floor with an empty echo and rolls away. He strains to grasp the front of McDonald’s shirt and pulls him down into a kiss. Blanky’s tongue pushes half the alcohol into McDonald’s mouth. It stings and burns like his leg must. Blanky pushes his slops further out of the way and takes over on his prick, urging McDonald to drive into the open wound again. McDonald leans down and presses his forehead to Blanky’s, sharing sweat and breath as Blanky cries under the efforts of their frantic hands. He climaxes with a powerful laugh and shudders down from it with McDonald’s hand, covered in his blood, clamped to his face.</p><p>“Astonishing,” Alex whispers to him again. “Will you sleep now, Thomas? Have I managed what the beast has not?”</p><p>“You’ve done well, lad,” Blanky murmurs as his eyes close. “A fine consummation.”</p><p>“Hush, now.”</p><p>Blanky snoozes as McDonald redresses his leg. His eye catches on the saw and long knives still waiting to be cleaned, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to look at them again without thinking of the hot ooze over his fingers and Mr Blanky's tongue.</p><p>He will, of course, he’s a professional man. But it will be a long way from here. In another time.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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